A few weeks subsequent to the occurrences mentioned in the lastchapter, Leonard Jasper received a call from Mr. Melleville, inwhose service Claire still remained. The greeting of the two men wasdistant, yet courteous. A few words on current topics passed betweenthem, after which Mr. Melleville said--
"I have called to ask you a question or two in regard to a child ofthe late Mr. Elder, to whom you are guardian."
The blood came instantly to the face of Jasper, who was not preparedfor this; and in spite of his struggle to seem self-possessed, hiseyes sank under those of his visitor. In a few moments, he recoveredhimself, and replied--
"The child, you mean, who is boarding with Edward Claire?"
"The same." The eyes of Melleville were fixed on those of Jasper sosteadily, that the latter wavered, and, finally, again dropped to thefloor.
"Well, I am ready to hear any thing that you have to say." Jasper hadthrown off, once more, the vague sense of coming evil that made himcower under the steady gaze of Melleville.
"I learn," said the latter, "from Mr. Claire, that you refuse to payany further sums for her maintenance. Is the property left by herfather, to which common report has affixed considerable value,exhausted, or"--
"I have refused to pay him any further sums," said Jasper, in aquick, excited voice, interrupting Mr. Melleville. "Our contract,regularly entered into, has expired by limitation. He was to have thecare of her only until she reached her twelfth year. Of this fact heis clearly advised, and I wonder at his pertinacity in endeavouring toretain the child, when he knows that I, her guardian, wish to have herin my own possession."
"He has had her ever since she was a little child; and both he and hiswife are now strongly attached to her. In fact, she regards them asher parents; and their affection for her is not exceeded bytheir affection for their own children. To separate them would beexceedingly painful to all parties. As for the child, it would makeher very unhappy."
"I can't help that, Mr. Melleville." Jasper spoke coldly.
"Under all the circumstances," said Mr. Melleville, after a pause,speaking slowly, and with considerable emphasis in his words, "it ismy opinion that you had better let the child remain where she is."
"Why do you say so?" Jasper spoke with ill-concealed surprise; and theuneasy, suspicious manner, at first exhibited, returned.
"Claire regards the child as his own; and must so continue to regardher, even though taken out of his hands."
"Well, what of that?"
"It is for you, Mr. Jasper," was returned, "to determine for yourself,whether the surveillance of a man like Claire, who cannot now cease tofeel a parent's interest in your ward, will be altogether agreeable."
"Surveillance! What do you mean? I don't understand this language. Itlooks like an effort to force me into measures. Pray, what have I tofear from Edward Claire?"
"Sometimes," replied Melleville, with a slow, meaning enunciation,"those we regard as most insignificant are the very ones we shouldmost fear."
"Fear! Fear, Mr. Melleville! You make use of strange language."
"Perhaps I do," was answered. "And, as it seems unpleasant to you, Iwill say no more. I did not mean, when I called, to speak just as Ihave done. But, as the words have been uttered, I beg you to weighthem well, and to believe that they have a meaning. Good morning."
Jasper suppressed the utterance of the word "stay," which arose to hislips, and returned the bow of Mr. Melleville, who left without furtherremark.
"What can this mean?" Thus mused Leonard Jasper, when alone. "Can thisscoundrel, Martin, have dropped a hint of the truth?" A slight shiverwent through his nerves. "Something is wrong. There is suspicion inthe thought of Melleville. I didn't look for trouble in this quarter."
To his own unpleasant reflections we will leave the merchant, andreturn to Edward Claire and his true-minded, loving-hearted wife.
For a week or two after the former entered upon his new dutiesas assistant clerk in a night-auction, he experienced no seriousinconvenience from his more prolonged labours, although it did notescape the watchful eyes of his wife that his complexion was losingits freshness, and that his appetite was far from being so good asbefore. After this, he began to suffer oppressive weariness, thatmade the evening's toil a daily increasing burden. Then succeeded afeverish state, accompanied by pains in the head, back, and throughthe breast. Edith remonstrated, even with tears; but still Claire wentnightly to his task, though each successive evening found him withless and less ability for its performance.
At last, he came home from the store of Mr. Melleville, at the usualtea-time, feeling so unwell that he was forced to lie down. He had noappetite for supper, and merely sipped part of a cup of tea brought tohim by his wife as he still reclined upon the bed.
"Don't get up," said Edith, seeing her husband, after he had lain forsome time, about to rise.
"I can't lie here any longer; it's nearly seven o'clock now."
"You're not going out to-night!"
"O yes; I must be at the store. There is no one to take my place, andthe sales will begin by the time I can get there."
"But you are too sick to go out, Edward."
"I feel much better than I did, Edith. This little rest has refreshedme a great deal."
"No--no, Edward! You must not go away," said his wife in a distressedvoice. "You are sick now, and the extra exertion of an evening maythrow you into a serious illness."
"I feel a great deal better, dear," urged Claire. "But, sick or well,I must be there to-night, for the sale cannot go on without me. If Ido not feel better to-morrow, I will ask Mr. F---- to get some one,temporarily, in my place."
Still Edith opposed, but in vain.
By the time Claire arrived at the auction store, his head wasthrobbing with a pain so intense that he could scarcely see. Still, heresolutely persevered in his determination to go through, if possible,with the duties of the evening; and so, taking his place at his desk,as the auctioneer went upon the stand to cry the goods which hadbeen advertised for sale, he prepared to keep the usual record ofpurchasers and prices. This he was able to do for half an hour, whenovertaxed and exhausted nature could bear up no longer.
"Mr. Claire," said the auctioneer, as he took in hand a new article,"did you make that last entry?--Mr. Jackson, ten cents a yard."
Claire's head had fallen over on the book in which he had beenwriting, and the auctioneer, supposing him only yielding to amomentary feeling of fatigue, or indolence, thus called his attentionto his duties.
But Claire made no answer.
"Say! young man! Are you asleep!" The auctioneer spoke now with somesharpness of tone; but, as before, his words were not heeded.
"What's the matter, Mr. Claire? Are you sick?"
Still no response or movement.
"Mr. Claire! Bless me!" The auctioneer was now by his side, with hishand on him. "Bring some water, quick! He's fainted--or is dead! Here!some one help me to lay him down."
Two or three men came quickly behind the auctioneer's stand andassisted to lift the insensible man from the high stool on which hewas seated, and place his body in a reclining position. Then waterwas dashed into his face, and various other means of restoration used.Full ten minutes passed before signs of returning life were exhibited.His recovery was very slow, and it was nearly an hour before he waswell enough to be removed to his dwelling.
The shock of his appearance, supported from the carriage in which hehad been conveyed home, by two men, was terrible to his wife, whoseanxiety and fear had wrought her feelings already up to a high pitchof excitement.
"Oh! what is the matter? What has happened?" she cried, wringing herhands, while her face blanched to a deathly paleness.
"Don't be frightened," returned Claire, smiling feebly. "It was only aslight fainting fit. I'm over it now."
"That's all, madam," said the men who had brought him home. "He merelyfainted. Don't be alarmed. It's all over."
After receiving the thanks of Claire and his assurances that he needednothing further from their kindness, the men retired, and Edward thenmade every effort in his power to calm down the feelings of his wife,who continued weeping. This was no easy task, particularly as he wasunable long to hide the many evidences of serious illness from whichhe was suffering. Against his remonstrance, so soon as she saw howit was with him, Mrs. Claire sent off the domestic for their familyphysician; who on learning the causes which led to the condition inwhich he found his patient, hesitated not to say that he must, as hevalued his life, give up the night tasks he had imposed upon himself.
"Other men," said Claire, in answer to this, "devote quite as manyhours to business."
"All men are not alike in constitution," returned the physician. "Andeven the strongest do not make overdrafts upon the system, withoutfinding, sooner or later, a deficit in their health-account. Asfor you, nature has not given you the physical ability for greatendurance. You cannot overtask yourself without a derangement ofmachinery."
How reluctantly, and with what a feeling of weakness, Claireacquiesced in this decision, the reader may imagine.
The morning found him something better, but not well enough to sit up.Mrs. Claire had, by this time, recovered in a measure her calmness andconfidence. She had thought much, during the sleepless hours of thepreceding night, and though the future was far from opening clearlyto her straining vision, her mind rested in a well-assured confidencethat all things would work together for their good. She knew in whomshe trusted. On the Rock of Ages she had built the habitation wheredwelt her higher hopes; and the storms of this world had no power toprevail against it.
How little dreamed gentle Fanny Elder--or Fanny Claire, as shewas called--when she laid her cheek lovingly to that of her sick"father"--she knew him by no other name--and drew her arms around hisneck, that he was suffering alone on her account. In her unselfishlove, Claire felt a sweet compensation--while all he endured on heraccount had the effect to draw her, as it were, into his very heart.
As quickly as it could be done, Mrs. Claire got through with the mostpressing of her morning duties, and then, the older children away toschool, she came and sat down by her husband's bedside, and took hishand in hers. As he looked into her face, pale from sleeplessness andanxiety, tears filled his eyes.
"O, Edie!" said he, his voice tremulous with feeling, "isn't thisdisheartening? What are we to do?"
"He careth for us," was the low, calmly spoken reply; and, as Edithlifted a finger upward, a ray of heavenly confidence beamed in hercountenance.
"I know, Edie; I know, but"--
The sick man left his sentence unfinished. A heavy sigh marking hisstate of doubt and darkness.
"We must feel as well as know, Edward," said his wife. "God is good.In looking back through all our past life, does not the retrospectionlead to this undoubting conclusion? I am sure you will say yes. Hashe not, in every case, proved better to us than all our fears?--Why,then, should we distrust him now? In the beautiful language of Cowper,let us say in these dark seasons--
'Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.'
"Shall we doubt the sun's existence, because the night has fallen? No,dear husband, no! There are bright stars smiling above us in token ofhis unerring return. We know that the morning cometh after a season ofdarkness; and so, after our spirits have lingered awhile in the realmof shadows, the light will break in from above. Has it not always beenso, Edward?"
"He has led us by a way which we knew not."
The sick man's eyes were closed as he murmured these words; and hisvoice was slightly tremulous, yet expressive of a returning state ofconfidence.
"Yet, how safely," replied Edith. "When our feet were in slipperyplaces, and we leaned on Him, did he not support us firmly? and whenthe mire and clay were deep in our path, did He not keep us fromsinking therein?"
"He is goodness itself," said Claire, a calmer expression coming intohis face. "It is wrong so to let doubt, distrust, and fear creep inand get possession of the heart; but, we are human--weakness and errorare born with us. When the way in which we are walking is suddenlyclosed up before us, and we see the opening to no other way, how canwe keep the faint heart from sinking?"
"Only as Peter was saved from sinking. If we look to God, He will liftour hearts above the yielding billows. If we stand still, hopefullyand trustingly, the high mountain before us will become as a plain, sothat we can walk on in a smooth way, joyful and rejoicing."
"And so this high mountain, which has risen up so suddenly, willsoon be cleft for us or levelled to a plain, if we wait patiently andconfidingly for its removal?"
"Oh! I am sure of it, Edward," replied Mrs. Claire, with a beautifulenthusiasm. "We are His creatures, and He loves us with an infinitelove. When his children are disposed to trust too much to the arm offlesh, He sometimes shows them their weakness in order that they mayfeel His strength. Faithfully and unselfishly, my husband, have youtried to meet the suddenly increased demand upon us: and this out oflove for one of God's children. In the trial, weakness has prevailedover strength. Suddenly your hands have fallen to your side powerless.God saw it all; and permitted it all; and, in His own good time, willsupply, from other sources, all that is really needed. We have thepromise--our bread shall be given, and our water sure--not onlythe natural food that sustains outward life, but the true bread ofheavenly affections, and the waters of pure truth, which nourish andsustain the spirit."
Edith ceased speaking. Her husband did not make an immediate reply;but lay pondering her words, and letting his thoughts expand theirwings in the purer atmosphere into which she had lifted him.
After that they conversed together hopefully of the future; not thatthey saw the way more clearly before them, but heavenly confidence hadtaken the place of human distrust.
It was, perhaps, eleven o'clock in the day--the doctor had been there,and pronounced the condition of his patient favourable, but enjoinedquiet and prolonged rest from either bodily or mental exertion--andthe mind of Claire was beginning to run again in a slightly troubledchannel.
"Here is a letter for you," said his wife, coming into the room, aftera brief absence. "A young man just left it at the door."
Claire took the letter, wondering as he did so who it could be from.On breaking the seal, and unfolding it, he was greatly surprised tofind within a check to his order for one hundred and fifty dollars,signed Leonard Jasper; and still more surprised to read theaccompanying note, which was in these words:
"Enclosed you will find one hundred and fifty dollars, the sum dueyou for Fanny Elder's maintenance during the past and current quarter.When convenient, I should be glad to see you. Seeing that the childhas remained with you so long, I don't know that it will be advisableto make a change now, although I had other views in regard to her.However, when you call, we can settle matters in regard to herdefinitively."
"Better to us than all our fears," murmured Claire, as he handed theletter to his wife, who read it with a truly thankful heart.
"Our way is smooth once more," she said, smiling through outpressingtears--"the mountain has become a level plain. All the dark cloudshave been swept from our sky, and the sun is shining even morebrightly than of old."
It was more than a week before Claire was sufficiently recovered togo out and attend to business as usual. At the first opportunity,he called upon Mr. Jasper, who received him with marked kindness ofmanner.
"I do not, now," said the merchant, "entertain the same views inregard to my ward that I did some time ago. Your opposition tomy wishes then, fretted me a good deal; and I made up my mind,decisively, that so soon as she was twelve years of age, you must giveher up. It was from this feeling that I acted when I refused to payyour last order. Since then, I have reflected a good deal on thesubject; and reflection has modified, considerably, my feelings. Ican understand how strong must be the attachment of both yourself andwife, and how painful the thought of separation from a long-cherishedobject of affection."
"The dread of separation, Mr. Jasper," replied Claire, "has haunted usduring the last two years like an evil spirit."
"It need haunt you no more, Edward," was the kindly spoken reply. "Ifyou still wish to retain the care of this child, you are free to doso."
"You have taken a mountain from my heart, Mr. Jasper," was the youngman's feeling response.
"It is settled, then, Edward, that she remains with you. And now Imust say a word about her education. I wish that to be thorough.She must have good advantages; better than the sum now paid for hermaintenance will procure."
Claire made no reply, and Jasper continued--
"I have this to propose. The bulk of property left by her father iscontained in two moderate-sized houses, one of which is at this timewithout a tenant. It is a very comfortable house for a small family.Just the thing, I should say, for you. If you will move into thishouse, you shall have it rent free, as a set-off to the increasedcharge Fanny will be to you in future. The three hundred per annumwill be paid as usual. How will that do?"
"The compensation, I think, will be greater than the service," repliedClaire.
"Not at all. During the next five or six years, or until she gainsher majority, you will find the cost of clothing and education aconstantly increasing sum. I know more about these things than youdo. And I am very sure, since I understand your relation to her, thattwice this expenditure, could not gain for her what she will havewhile in your care. As her guardian, I feel it my duty to provideliberally for her comfort and education, and to this you, of course,can have nothing to object."
And Claire did not object. In a few weeks from that time he removedinto one of the houses mentioned by Jasper--a larger and far morecomfortable one than that in which he had lived for several years.Here, with a thankful heart, he gathered his wife and childrenaround him. How happy they all were! Not selfishly happy--if suchcontradictory terms may be used--but happy in the warmth of mutuallove. A heaven on earth was this little household. Shall we contrastit with that of Leonard Jasper? No!--the opposite picture would leaveupon the reader's mind too sad an impression; and we will not burdenthis chapter with another shadow.